Iris watched him. He laid out all his equipment with practiced skill and a slight smile. She loved watching this part of the process before he would finally set a needle to her skin, and she would float away on clouds of pain and blood. Calhoun, who everyone called Cal smiled at her and ran his warm hands over Iris’s shoulder. He held a bottle whose contents were sprayed on her shoulder to start the preparation for the ink. Watching this process soothed her heart, and the buzz of the machine lulled her to an almost sleeping state. Her shoulder burned as tiny needles injected and deposited the ink into her skin. The design started to come alive under Cal’s steady hand, her grief came to life, and she offered up her pain to gods long forgotten. Time faded away in the distance, and she floated along in memories of her grandfather.
His smile, his great bushy beard that she had been begging him to trim for ages, his rough hands as he kneaded flatbrød to go with her attempt at lamb and mushroom stew, and even his attempts to teach her Norwegian. Inevitably her mind wandered to those last few days of his life, how he had lain in that hospital asking for her long-deceased grandmother, wandering down the hallways of his mind as she walked down hers now. That last day she saw him, she took him a fresh blanket, clean clothes, and snacks. Laughing with Iris as he ate the chips she had brought him. “I will fight with you tomorrow,” he promised as she kissed him on his brow and said goodbye. Her mind took her to the phone call that had thrown her life into chaos. “Harald Ericson has just passed away.” She went to see his body, and that image stayed in her mind. They hadn't bothered to close his eyes, and those eyes stared at her. Iris could not bear to stay with him like that; she wanted her grandfather alive and well, with a smile and fire in his blue eyes that matched hers. She brought out the washcloth and wiped his face and hands while speaking to him. This was the last time, and she would leave him behind forever. She kissed him on the brow of his cold forehead and shivered. “Ha det, morfar.” Goodbye, grandfather.
With a start, she came to when Cal gently shook her out of her reverie. “You were far away from the moment I started.” “I was far away with my grandfather.” Cal looked at her and gestured to her shoulder. She looked down and saw the raven forever inked onto her skin. It was done in the style of her ancestors, a way to remember her grandfather when he was far away, in the otherworld with the rest of the dead. “Thank you. Munin is beautiful.” He smiled at her and raised a hand as if to remove an errant tear that had snuck down her face.
Iris smiled and lay a hand on his. Cal blinked. His green eyes met her startling vivid blue, and something sparked. The heat went down from her belly and pooled below her waist, and her skin felt warm and far too tight. Her mouth was dry as she lowered her eyes to his plump lips. Cal moved his hand with a slight blush and motioned to the fresh tattoo that now adorned her shoulder. “How do you like it?” Smiling, she nodded and lay a hand on the raven tattoo. “Grandad would have loved it.” The raven was done in the old style of her ancestors. She removed her hand and stepped away from Cal, afraid of the heat that had taken over her body. Cal looked at her with those green eyes and also moved away. He wanted to kiss lips that looked so soft, warm, and inviting. Her lips begged to be kissed, and Cal wanted to lay his hands on this slight female that oozed sex even in her grief.
He had tattooed her many times before, but this was the first time he had placed such an important piece of art on her. Other pieces had just marked her favourite books or parts of her life. Her arms were almost full of his art, and they had shared this journey for so long that he sometimes forgot she was his client. He forgot that, especially in the early morning hours when his cock was hard, and her face floated in his dreams. Those blue eyes that sparked with fire, soft, supple curves, and inked skin, a rosebud mouth that turned up in ready laughter. His cock twitched in his cargo pants, and he moved away to hide his shame. Iris laughed, the sound pleasant to his ears, and she moved to the door. “I’ll see you again soon.” His eyes looked down at his table as his strong, slender hands cleaned up the table. He heard the door open and closed softly, and he breathed. That woman would be the death of him.
Iris looked to the cloudy sky and wondered what it would have been like if Cal had kissed her. She wondered what his lips would have felt like on her own and how far she would have gone to taste him. To feel his body moving in rhythm to her own while she moaned his name. She shook her head and tugged on her braid that snaked over her shoulder. I should not be wondering these things about Cal. I have a boyfriend, as messed up as that relationship might be. She bit her lip and walked away, her steps like lead, her feet unwilling to walk away from Calhoun.
She climbed into her car, her keys hitting the Baby Yoda keychain that she had clipped onto her keys with a faint jingle. There was no way she would allow Cal to sneak into her fantasies except in the early morning hours when her boyfriend, Wynne, slept sweetly beside her with an arm thrown over her waist while he snored. She sighed and started the car, her mind a million miles away as she imagined what it would feel like to have Cal pin her wrists above her head and make her beg. A shiver went down her spine, and she blushed, even in the privacy of her car. All too soon, the drive home was finished, and she parked. Climbing out of her car, she was greeted by her great hunk of muscle, Cocopops the pitbull. “Hey, girl.” She leaned down and gave her faithful companion a scratch behind the ears before opening her front door. Her home smelled like it always had smelled, of fresh pine trees, a faint whiff of perfume long gone, and the ocean. Her mind started to settle as Iris opened her windows and let in a faint breeze to cool her home down. Cocopops wiggled alongside her, and the dog was begging for her attention. She leaned down to give her dog a fond scratch between the ears. Her dog looked at her with love shining in her warm brown eyes. Her bed beckoned, but she forced herself to make a quick sandwich with some cheese and wander up the seven steps to the second level of the house. The door at the end of the hallway seemed to mock her in grief, and she walked to ward off the white door. Her hand lifted out of habit to knock before she remembered no one was inside. Her hand dropped to the handle and she wanted to so badly open it, to have everything as it had been. Her grandfather was sitting on his bed with his glasses at the end of his slightly crooked nose, a book in his hand, and a cigarette in his mouth as he absorbed the book's content, his mind far away in whichever land the book had transported him to. Iris yearned to have him there, to walk in and light a cigarette as he asked her about her day and spoke about whatever book he was reading. Harald Ericson had meant much to her in the last two years, not just because he was her grandfather. He had been a rock when her relationship with Wynne had almost fallen apart due to other people's meddling. While she had not always listened to his advice, she had always valued it. Even now, his voice rang in her head, urging her to leave Wynne because she was no longer happy, just unhappy.
Wynne didn’t allow her to do much that aligned with her interests. Iris was always forced into wearing and doing things not in her nature. Her interests were not his concern as long as she behaved the way his parents wanted her to. Nothing else mattered except his own family. The day, while he was gone, was the only time she got to feel normal, like herself. Cocopops whined and pawed at her; her hands shook, and Iris looked down at her best friend. Iris returned to her bedroom, opened her door, and looked into a room that looked like a Viking raiding party had attacked it. Books on every shelf were organised into whatever system she had managed to dredge up from the depths of her nearly sleep-deprived mind. Clothes overflowed in her washing basket, and a bed that hadn't been made in days. She fell into that bed and fell into a deep sleep before her head hit the pillow. Cocopops climbed onto the bed and took the watch over her mistress with her head on Iris’s feet.